


One Bed

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Jaskier and Reader got a room for the night on their journey and *dramatic pause* ....There was only one bed.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	One Bed

You were both exhausted by the time you reached the inn. The trek had taken longer than you anticipated, so long that even Jaskier went quiet, trying to conserve whatever energy he had left to focus on making it to the blessed respite of a warm bed. Jaskier went up to get your keys and when he came back and held out one you thought he must have dropped the other one and went back with him to get yours.

“We only have one room left,” the innkeeper explained.

“You know what that’s fine, it’s fine, come on Jask,” you said, waving at the innkeeper and steering your friend towards the stairs. Both of you woke up a bit when you walked into the room and found one bed.

“Oh.”

“Ah.”

The two of you stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment and then Jaskier summoned up a smile and said, “I will take the floor, honestly I could sleep just as well there as anywhere else.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll take the bed,” you argued.

“No, no, you really need to get some rest,” he insisted.

“Look this is crazy we’ll just… both sleep on the bed,” you said, focusing intently on the wall above Jaskier’s head instead of looking him in the eyes as you offered.

“Well… I mean… It is a big bid,” he said, suddenly fixated on the rug you both stood on. You glanced back towards each other and laughed a little nervously.

“It’s just a bed,” you said, moving to pull off your boots.

“Right, of course,” he agreed, doing the same. You both disrobed quietly after that, turning away from each other to strip down to as little as possible before blindly fumbling towards the bed and pulling the blankets back. The awkwardness was forgotten as you both sank into the mattress uttering dueling groans of relief to be off of your feet and on something softer than the hard ground. You rolled to face each other, sleepy grins on both of your faces.

“This is fine,” you say reassuringly, trying to permanently banish any lingering sense of unease.

“That is easily the least enthusiastic response someone has had to being in a bed with me but I’ll take it,” Jaskier says with a wry smile. You shake your head and laugh, grateful for the dim candlelight that hides the blush that creeps over your cheeks as you begin to think about what being in bed with Jaskier usually entails. For some people. Other people.

“Goodnight Jaskier,” you say, turning around to blow out the candle.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says as the room goes dark and smell of smoke tinges the air.

You both nestle into the bed, shifting into your usual positions and knock into each other accidentally, Jaskier’s arm wrapping around your neck and your ass pressing up against him in a bit of a couple of off-kilter spoons. You both murmur apologies and try to laugh, the nervous tension back in the room as you both silently agree that the best way to maneuver this is to just turn your backs on each other and face the walls. You lay in total silence for five agonizing minutes. You know the sound of Jaskier when he’s sleeping, the even rhythm of his breath when he’s resting and the occasional snores he would deny to his dying breath. He knows you aren’t asleep because he can feel your foot fidgeting, a reminder of how close you are but in so many ways how still so very far.

“Are you awake?” you ask finally.

“Yes, are you”” he asks. You scoff and you can feel and hear him flip over, the blanket letting in a little burst of cold air before he wraps it back down around him.

“Why is this so hard?” Jaskier asks, his voice much closer than you anticipated, so close you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“Something else you usually hear from people in bed with you?” you tease.

“If they have to ask either they’re far too humble or something has gone terribly wrong,” he replies. You bite your lip, wishing you hadn’t brought it up. _Or wishing I could bring it up_. You groan into your pillow.

“What’s going on over there? Talk to me,” Jaskier implores, his hand gently brushing back the hair that’s fallen into your face. You finally roll back around to face him. Though it’s dark you can see the outline of his features and he yours.

“I don’t know it just feels different. Not bad but… there’s something about a bed, you know?” you ask. You can tell he’s biting back several cheeky remarks but he just nods.

“But we’ve shared spaces much smaller than this one,” he says, “I don’t disagree with you, there is… something… about a bed…”

If you could see him clearly you’d see the way his eyes have fallen to your lips, the way his fingers rise up, itching to touch them, before he pulls them back and sighs frustratedly.

“Y’know statistically speaking people spend more time sleeping in beds than… other… activities,” You say, trying desperately to find a way to logic the awkwardness out of things.

“I may be an outlier in that study,” Jaskier says.

“Well I am a big sleeper,” you say, firmly barreling past that comment and trying to pretend your heart isn’t beating a bit faster and that you can’t feel his hand resting on the bed inches from your waist.

“Oh yeah? Sleep around a lot?” Jaskier asks. These are jokes you traded in the daytime but it wasn’t the daytime anymore and his works sounded fraught with meaning that you don’t want to believe you’re imagining. The hand by your waist inches a little closer and you move into it, eager to feel him even if just his fingertips through the fabric of your nightshirt.

“Can I just – ”

“Would it be – ”

“You go first,” Jaskier says.

“No, you,” you insist.

“I was going to say can I just… hold you? If that isn’t weird?” he asks.

“No! No I mean no it won’t be weird, yes hold me,” you say, tripping over the words. He sidles up closer to you and tucks your pillow over his left arm, pulling you in to rest your head there while his body aligns with yours, his right arm wrapping around your waist and his face burrowed in your hair. You sigh contentedly, your left hand taking his right.

“What were you going to say?” he whispers, face inches from your ear.

“Oh just… going to ask for this actually,” you say. His arms tighten around you in a way that would be painful if you didn’t crave it so much. You’d been trying to keep these feelings at bay, focusing on your friendship with Jaskier, the bard who smiled for all but received few in return. The man who was a friend to everyone but had few who would call him the same. But he was also the man who made your heart twist every time he smiled at you, who listened when you were upset and held you when you cried on your worst days. And somewhere along the way friendship turned to something different, not more, that would be a disservice to the love you felt for him as a friend, but definitely different. Harder to explain and deeply dangerous.

You felt him sigh heavily, the movement shifting your closely pressed bodies.

“You alright back there?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yes, more than alright. We should have done this a long time ago,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, hoping he didn’t notice the way your voice cracked at the word.

“Yes,” he said decisively, “You’re so very…”

Your heart pounded as your brain scrambled to anticipate the word he would say next. Loveable? Cuddle-able? Fuckable?

“Touchable,” he says, his voice growing soft as he whispers the word into the crook of your neck. The hand holding his tightens and you sigh heavily, the motion causing you to wriggle a bit against him and you hear him mutter “fuck” under his breath as you do.

“You ok?” you ask.

“Mmhmm,” he says, terribly unconvincingly. He’s pulling away a bit more, shifting awkwardly and you contrarily back up closer, eager to keep the cuddle going if that’s all you can have with him. When you press back up against him you can feel something new and Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat.

“Oh,” you breath.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier murmurs, “You’re just so close and so soft and so you and… _fuck_.”

You wrapped your leg around his, leverage as you grind against him closer.

“What was that you were saying?” you ask. His hand lowers and grips the ass that’s planted right in his lap.

“You know what you’re doing,” he says accusatorily.

“I do. But what are you going to do about it?” you ask. You crane your neck to meet his eyes, close enough you can see the vibrant blue. Your lips are parted slightly in anticipation and you see Jaskier’s eyes fall to them mere seconds before he presses his against them, a kiss neither of you expected yet both of you had been waiting for far longer than you knew. His hand cups your face, and you turn your body to face him, giving you both greater access to each other’s bodies. He wraps both long legs around yours, using his whole body to touch every part of you can he reach. His hands snake up your thigh, up the opening of your nightdress to touch the soft skin of your waist, pawing at you with little grace and even less inhibition.

“Been wanting to do this for so long,” he says, the words coming out in gasps as he explores the sensitive skin on your collar bones and around your neck. You run your hands over his arms, enjoying the new parts of him to learn like the dip on his shoulder blade where muscle meets bone and the telltale goosebumps that follow in the wake of your touch. He crawls over you and you love the weight of him. He’s heavier than you expected but you can tell he’s trying to support some of his weight on the arm that grips the headboard. His mouth travels further, tracing the sensitive flesh of your breasts with his skillful tongue that elicits soft sighs and hitched gasps from your throat. You reach beneath him as he focuses on lavishing attention on you and wrap your hand around his cock. The mouth encircling your nipple bites down in surprise and you yelp, a strangled sound that is equal parts pleasure and surprise. He looks up at you and his expression sends a thrill of adrenaline through you. The more he touches you the hungrier he seems to get and you want nothing more than to sate his hunger in any way you can. Your grip tightens and but his moans are muffled as he keeps exploring your body with his mouth until he’s pulled far enough away that you can no longer touch him. He rests on his elbows, lifting up your thighs and pulling you in close. He looks up at you and you try to commit the sight of him between your legs to memory, wondering ever so briefly how much it would cost to commission a portrait of it when he slides a finger up the length of your slit, parting you with nimbly fingers. His fingers are quickly replaced with his tongue, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively to hold you still as you writhe beneath him. One hand tangles in his hair as the other grips the sheets on the bed, trying to anchor yourself. He’s merciless as he teases and provokes you, refusing to give pause long enough for you to catch your breath. He drives your first orgasm out of you with his mouth, the next with his fingers, determined to use every tool at his disposal in the pursuit of your pleasure. He slides back up the length of your body, kissing his way back up til his mouth meets yours again, his face damp and reddened and grinning with satisfaction but still hungry, your insatiable Jaskier.

“Hey,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his playfully.

“Hey,” you whisper back, brushing your lips against his still-smiling lips in the whisper of a kiss.

“I’m going to fuck you very hard and quicker than I’d like because I am very tired but I would never forgive myself if I fell sleep before I could feel your sweet, wet cunt wrapped around my cock. If you want,” he adds the last part casually as though his words don’t already have you trying to lift your body to meet his.

“I need to hear you say that you want it,” he says when you don’t say anything, distracted by the soft kisses he brushes against your lips.

“I want you,” you say, the words too small to contain the truth they hold, “I want you, Jaskier.”

He kisses you again, slower and deeper until he’s stolen your breath and then you feel him enter you, slowly though you can feel him tremble slightly as he tries to force himself to move cautiously to ensure he doesn’t hurt you. Once he’s buried himself fully in you, his face resting against your chest, his breathing labored and your hands gently stroking his hair. It’s a peaceful moment and then he draws himself back up, placing one hand on the headboard and the other on your shoulder, looking at you adoringly as he draws out of you slowly and thrusts back in so hard the bed shakes. He watches your face for signs of discomfort and you arch your back up against him, eager for more. He takes the cue, the eternal musician, and he fucks you harder, your moans collapsing into breathless gasps. You can’t tell if the words he says, beautiful and soft uttered through gritted teeth, are filthy or fawning but the sound of his voice is your undoing as it always has been, as you always knew it would be. He comes with your name on his lips and it is the sweetest song he’s ever sung.

You curl up together, sweaty and giggling, Jaskier’s mouth still kissing any patch of skin that comes near enough; your shoulder as you pull the blankets over him, your neck as you shift your hair out of the way, and you fall asleep wrapped around each other.


End file.
